


all the lonely Starbucks lovers

by sugarybowl



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, canon typical discussions of suicidal ideation, i had a ridiculous idea and i went with it, it's fix it time, justice for jennifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 20:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18746539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarybowl/pseuds/sugarybowl
Summary: Quentin Coldwater shows up to his own funeral 15 minutes late with Starbucks.





	all the lonely Starbucks lovers

**Author's Note:**

> What is the most ridiculous way I can redeem Jennifer and save Quentin I asked myself? This is it.

“So most of the time when I bring people to my office,” Penny said like he was proud of it, like he had found satisfaction after death in this cushy office that smelled good and looked boring but felt warm, “we have their favorite drink. It’s fun, because people can have pretty simple favorites like coffee or tea, but sometimes we have cocktails or Hawaiian Punch - one time it was just melted mint chocolate chip ice cream. I like yours, dude. Hot chocolate just after the last marshmallow melts.”

“It looks...good,” Quentin whispered, smelling it made him realize there was no tension in his body. Probably because he had no body, but still. “So I guess I have to tell you my secrets now.”

“Don’t rush,” Penny said softly, and he didn’t reach out to take the cup from Quentin’s hand but he put the drink down all the same.

“There’s not usually a choice of drinks,” Penny continued, “because there’s no lying in this room - no pretending. You love what you love and for one last moment I get to love it with you.”

“That’s I uh- I guess that’s lovely. I’m confused.”

“I know. I can’t promise it will make sense, but it will be okay.”

“Are Eliot and Julia -”

“Everyone else is alive up there,” he answered calmly, “and I was going to show you some things that it turns out I am not going to show you any more. See - even I get surprised down here sometimes. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, the twists at the ends.”

“My book?”

“Mmm. Your book - well - all of ours - they’re volatile. We’ve fucked with time and space more than most. They grow and they shrink, they stop and they start again. Junior Librarians have been known to stop half way through a task just to watch them change. You and our friends are like YouTube down here.”

“I thought this was the place where I spilled my guts and moved on but it’s not looking that way,” Quentin said, scooting closer to Penny and trying to think through the fog of his confusion, “is it?”

Without answering, Penny motioned to the table in front of them where now, beside his simple and perfect cup of hot chocolate just after the last marshmallow melts sat what could only be described as a monstrosity. If he had to guess it was a venti frappuccino with every topping and extra known to god or man.

“What is this?”

“Hard to know exactly. It certainly looks extra. Looks like it might give you a brain freeze or diabetes. Also looks like something you can enjoy for a long time. Though it might get uncomfortable, holding something like that for ages. It’ll have its ups and downs. I’m sure sometimes you’ll be over it, ready to dunk it with more than half of it left. Maybe you share it with someone though. Maybe you drink it in until the last drop of a little too much.”

“Wow you’ve gotten really heavy handed with your metaphors,” Quentin noted, but he could feel the smile on the face he probably technically didn’t really have,”But are you going to explain why I have the Frapuccino of Life in front of me?”

“Do you know why the Old Gods are Old Gods, Quentin? It’s because they have this huge flaw they refuse to work on where they underestimate their children. This is a gift, Q,” he said with the most genuine grin on his face, “From a friend.”

Quentin squinted at the cup with its frosty condensation and sprinkles and golden caramel drizzle. There it was where it should be, his name, in handwriting that could belong only to a first grader.

“You did some unplanned good. You often do. You thought you were getting rid of monsters when you were actually letting hurt children free in a world of their own. Sometimes their power will bubble over and there will be chaos and there will be grief, but sometimes the bubbles will taste sweet to you.”

“I need to ask… I have to know. Did I do something brave to save my friends? Or did I finally find a way to kill myself?”

“Q, you died the way you lived. Doing something stupid for the people you love without thinking things through.”

Penny reached out to squeeze his arm, “You weren’t just brave when you died for them, Q. You were brave every day when you got up and kept going for _you_.”

“What if I mess everything up,” he asks, his hand flexing with the temptation to go home, “what if it was supposed to be this way and I’m messing with destiny?”

“I once heard a king say that destiny - it’s bullshit. It’s not about what’s supposed to happen or who is going to miss you - it’s not even about how you died. You get a choice now, brother, and whichever one you make I’m going to be there with you.”

Penny grins when he wraps his hand which isn’t there around the chilled plastic and shivers as he takes the first sip.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Everything. Nothing,” Quentin answers, “wait where are we?”

The comfy warm office is gone and around them the ground is damp and the night is humid and the smell of things that aren’t firewood burning hits the nose that he most definitely has.

“Drink up,” Penny says, “you’re late.”

“Late for what?”

“What does it taste like?”

“Milkshakes and cheap beer and perfect and Alice’s lipstick and Julia’s burnt cookies,” Quentin says because well, Penny asked, “what am I late for?”

Penny smiles, “Keep tasting.”

“My son’s mashed berries and flat prosecco, Eliot’s cigarettes and my dad’s waffles,” he says in  rush, “gas station hot dogs and wedding pie.”

“Quentin?” Alice’s voice trembles.

“Q?” Julia’s raw throat tries.

“Did we summon him?” wonders Kady.

“Is he a ghost?” Twenty Three asks the wind.

“COLDWATER YOU MOTHERFUCKER,” Margo shouts through the impossibility of furious raging crying delight, “DID YOU STOP BY STARBUCKS YOU UNDEAD PIECE OF SHIT?”

 _Thud_ goes Eliot’s cane on the forest floor.

“It tastes like peaches,” Quentin says to Penny’s smiling and retreating form and he feels the tension and the pain and the sweet sweet singing terror of life return, “it tastes like plums.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] all the lonely Starbucks lovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873589) by [exmanhater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater)




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